


Cuts and Bruises.

by GhostCobra



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28648389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCobra/pseuds/GhostCobra
Summary: Set pre series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Faith Lehane has yet to be activated as Slayer, still living with her mother before her death. Faith is 13 years old, Exploring the relationship between Faith and her mother, Audrey Lehane in Faith's POV after a typical Tuesday night in the Lehane household.
Kudos: 5





	Cuts and Bruises.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to do a writing piece on Faith’s background and what could’ve potentially been her home life before she was called as the chosen one all based on bits of information shared with us through the Buffy series and Angel the series. More specifically inspired by season one, episode 18: Five by Five regarding the line, “All these cuts and bruises bring out the mother in me.” It's probably been done before but this is my interpretation of the dynamic between her and her mother who I took the liberty of naming Audrey Lehane as it's a Boston baby girl's name instead of repeatedly writing "her mother". Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little short as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The hot July humidity clouds the air of their small two bedroom apartment. AC had finally crapped out after over a few months banging on it for even a slight breeze of cool air to get through the summer in Massachusetts. Faith lies in her bed, naked of a clean sheet and a small, yet favored fleece blanket covers her body, curled into a defensive fetal position, if it wasn't so hot she'd have found herself cocooned underneath, lie there until eyes finally fluttered shut but the heat being mid eighties would've made it feel _suffocating_. The dryness of tears stained her cheeks where it just seemed like the tears wouldn’t stop flooding. _Whack!_ She never forgets each imprint, especially one that left a mark by her mother’s new shiny but undoubtedly cheap engagement ring to some loser named Pete she met at the bar of all places - her favorite hangout spot, hitting it off almost immediately but Faith’s not naive to the world around her, she stopped believing the tale of mom wrestling with a new friend the night before long ago. This guy was no different from any of the other jack offs and creeps she’d shacked up with in the past - how long would this one last? Probably as long as her marriage to her father. Spoiler alert: Not long. It wouldn't be long until Patsy Cline’s Crazy would be blasting from the radio where even the neighbors would know the tune by heart. Faith could count on one hand the months the relationships lasted, how each one was 'the one' until it all went inevitably wrong. Maybe from his fucking up or hers but there was always one consistent factor: with each break up came Patsy and when worst came to worst, Willie Nelson was another fave.

Come to think of it… this was probably why Faith hates country.

Head peeks through the crack of her bedroom door, testing the air two hours after, attempting to suss out if her mother’s rage still wafted through the air. She doesn’t hear the bottles colliding with the tile kitchen floor anymore but the heat from her cheek is still present, hot. The cut on her cheekbone still bleeds red from where Audrey’s ring met the side of her face. Her mother’s rage knew no mercy, it lacked sympathy or maybe she just lacked the maternal warmth every child could nuzzle up to. God Faith still remembers the tirade, the drunken slurs of hours before. Another missed child support payment from her father and all bets were off. Sometimes Faith felt like a walking punching bag, where's her sign across her forehead? Take your shot! It's what I'm here for!

> _Fucking Patrick. That good for nothin’, piece of shit_ **_._ ** _You're just like him, you know?_ _You ain't nothing, don't go thinkin' you're special. If you're anything like your father or anyone in that family, well it ain't much I'll tell you that much. Ha!_

How words can cut to your heart, straight down to the nerve endings of the soul; delivering a more fatal blow than any strike to the face or a piece of broken beer bottle lodged in your skin. Time and time again, Faith found herself licking the emotional wounds rather than the physical ones for they always punched the most punch and damn did Audrey know how to strike a perfect blow to her trachea, leaving her breathless. A little to the left and she could’ve hit her jugular although that required actual effort. Something Audrey evidently lacked when it came to her daughter. Except when it came to hurling out insults then hey, they had the perfect mother daughter bonding. 

Bare feet cautiously trail along the naturally stained carpet, treading to the scene of tornado Audrey, befalling in front of Faith lies shards of shattered beer and whiskey bottles, an empty cigarette carton nearly ripped in half on the table, her mother nowhere in sight. Call her crazy but she actually is hoping her mother hadn't through with the threat of leaving, leaving Faith to fend for herself. _See if I care._ She shrugs her shoulders at the thought that Audrey was actually gone but there was still some part of Faith that doesn't want to that threat to come to life. She begins looking room to room, coming across her mother's door only a few inches open, finding her drunkenly on her bed with another bottle clutched to her hand, cap missing and a single tip of her hand would make her cheap vodka soil the carpet and leave the pungent smell in its spot for days. Faith casts her light auburn gaze to the woman passed out half naked onto the bed, she doesn't look to be breathing so Faith steps closer, making a potentially critical error in invading her space, her room. The one place where she, 'can get any peace'. Her chest lies inert, she certainly doesn't look like she's breathing. Inspecting closer, she gives a light shake of her shoulders and Audrey doesn't respond. "Mom. Mom." Finally she gives a hum, waving her hand to dismiss her daughter murmuring, slurring although Faith can't quite make it out. Something about dinner...? Ah, probably a dinner she never even made is in the fridge. Boy she must've really been wasted because all that was in there was a half empty gallon of milk, mayonnaise, some pickles and cheese. It was bare but the freezer at least had a single frozen burrito buried in there and if worse came to worse, there was ramen in the pantry. Mom was in no shape to be making Faith dinner out of practically nothing. Maybe they could make something out of all the empty take out bags in her room. Hey wait, since _when_ does she get takeout? Either way, what a mess. Like everything else in her life...

What a fucking mess. 

The clock reads a quarter past twelve and Faith knows from experience a fresh bruise would stick out like a sore thumb at school - she could easily play it off on yet another fight. Easily believable since Faith has racked up quite the track record with fights in school, who wouldn't believe a dust up with some neighborhood kid? Hey, not entirely her fault. She doesn't ask for kids to get all up in her face, practically asking to get their teeth kicked in and swallowed. Out there, Faith is ten feet tall, there is not a one challenge she won't turn down. In the walls she calls home? Well... the walls were too high for a nobody to climb. It was decided, she would ditch school come tomorrow, blow it off and screw around somewhere else to pass the time but she certainly wouldn't be at home.

That familiar sensation of worthlessness bubbles in the core of her chest as she gathers a dust pan, kneeling down to the broken shards scattered along the warm and outdated tile, knees pressing down to feel a crunch beneath then the crimson, dripping to the floor tiles. She winces, pulling a little shard out from skin, straight into the dust pan. Faith picks up the pieces of her mother's mess, grabbing neck of bottles with a firm grip as she thinks back to the whole fight. Where did it begin? Tonight certainly wasn't the end. It was the remark about Pete, wasn't it? Her money was on that. The guy was a creep, his paws usually crawling all over her like it was a normalcy between two lovers. Except Faith hated him. Never did she get good vibes off him and what did she get for expressing her thoughts? A good slap in the face. Yeah, that was probably was did it. Bad timing, coming fresh off being heated about something her father had done this time. With his track record... he probably skipped out on giving Audrey any sort of payment in the new month for Faith which meant no booze which also meant... a more pissed off Audrey and you did not want to be around during the withdrawal stages. Those were usually the ugliest, the hardest to endure in which, Faith made it a habit to never cross her path. Easier said than done when your apartment is as small as a rubix cube. 

The shine of broken sharp edges gleam back at her. The possible future in the palm of her hand, literally. Would she end up like her? Her father? Then again... the had to be some merit to her words, right? It wasn't like Faith held the grades to get into Harvard or anywhere fancy like that. Nah, that wasn't her style. She didn't know what exactly that style was yet but she just instinctively knew the college life wouldn't be for her. Hell, if she could make it to high school alone, that'd be an accomplishment. 

"I'm not nothin'," Oh god here it comes again. The ducts in her eyes pooling again with fresh tears, head shaking in rebuffal, she refuses to have another go with herself. _Stop it._ Back of hand goes to wipe any trace of tears she could feel coming on. Immediately bringing them to a halt. Faith sucks in a shaky breath, her grip on the broken bottle neck tighter, squeezing harder and harder as cheeks grow red hot with a fury. _Get it together, stop being such a fucking baby._ "I'm not, I'm -" Her head shakes once again, arguing against the pulsating voice in the back of her mind, agreeing with Audrey's statement. Faith Lehane was nothing. She was born into nothing and she would probably die nothing, a nobody in her own run down apartment in South Boston, scrounging around for some dimes and a couple of quarters for at least half a gallon of milk. That was the life that was laid out for her. If she believed in God, she'd say it was even God's will but there is no God. Faith learned that lesson ages ago. No God would play favoritism and hand the golden spoon to anyone he deemed worthy. Was that it? Was God deeming her unworthy? No, no. There was no such thing. Just life, just **people**. God was a concept only idiots believed in. You were on your own in the world with no salvation coming for you and this was it. The future staring back at her through dark tinted shattered pieces. "I'm not nothing!" She roars, the neck bottle hitting wall and shattering in even more tiny pieces. Pieces of an inevitable future lying in wait.


End file.
